


Want

by oooknuk



Series: Sufficient [1]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: Dreams fulfilled may become a nightmare





	Want

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters you recognize will belong to Alliance. No infringement of copyright intended. Not for profit. 
> 
> Warnings: m/m, language, death of a minor character 
> 
> Note: This takes place after 'Call of the Wild'. There are two further stories in this series, 'Need', and 'Sufficient'.   
> My thanks for Beth H, Sasha and Moonpuppy for help and comments on this.

Death surrounded us that week on this case, the first Ray and I had worked on together on in nearly two months. Pretty much every detective in Violent Crimes at the 27th precinct had been involved in working on it, and I had been pulled in despite the patent lack of a Canadian connection. As a rule, this rarely happened now. Since Ray and I got back from our  'adventure' nearly a year before, my casual partnership with him had been formalized and much upgraded from its previous use as a cover for a FBI undercover operation. After the arms dealing case involving Muldoon, both the Canadian government and the Chicago police department suddenly valued the 'liaising' I had been doing to the point where I had had to 'liaise' with nearly every single section at the 27th. Much to my intense regret and concern, Ray no longer had exclusive call on my services. He had no regular partner, nor had I, but while he worked alone when I was not with him, I was teamed with numerous officers for anything from a day to a couple of months.

So it was with mixed feelings of pleasure and regret that I was assigned to the apprehension of a vicious child murderer who had taken seven victims in the last month. Pleasure to be back working alongside my friend, regret that it was such a gruesome case. Ray was showing the strain. At least, that's what I put his unusual quietness, his obvious lack of sleep and his brittle attempts at humor down to.  But we had at long last arrested a man the previous night, caught with his eighth tiny victim still bound and gagged in a trunk in his home, and the whole precinct had offered collective thanks  for the end of this brutal affair. I  had not returned to my apartment until 2 am, and had come directly from there to the station to assist Ray with the paperwork - neither of us wanted the suspect freed on a technicality.

Ray looked tired, and had come off his post-chase high, such as it was, long since. He greeted me politely and monosyllabically as had become his wont, but then immersed himself in the file, merely shoving some forms over for me to check. We worked in silence, with me wondering how long it would be before he recovered his natural ebullience now that the case was resolved.

I hadn't been at the station half an hour when Ray took a call from his father. It rapidly became apparent that it was bad news, and that he wanted privacy, so I stepped away from the desk. He finished in less than two minutes. When he hung up, he put his hands over his face and rubbed it, then looked at me. "Fraser, give me a minute. Wait for me?" I nodded, and he headed straight for Lieutenant Welsh's office. I returned to his desk and continued on my task. He was gone rather longer than I'd expected but when he returned, his face was grim.

"Ray?" I asked.

He shook his head and picked up his jacket. "Not here. Outside."

Dief remained under the desk, clearly preferring the heated bull pen to the February wind - as normally would Ray. I followed him out to the car park. "Get in," he indicated and climbed into his car. I half expected him to drive off, but it became clear he was only seeking a warm private place to talk.

"That was my dad. He and Mom got a call from Vecchio. Stella's been in a car accident."

"Is she badly hurt?"

"She's ..., uh, she's dead. Last night." He didn't look at me and I really couldn't judge what, other than shock, was the dominant emotion in his mind. I doubt he could have told me. My silence was an invitation for him to continue. "Um, anyway - the funeral's Friday, in Florida. I'm gonna go - Mom wanted to, but you know...."

I did indeed - his mother had not been well, one of the reasons they had retreated to the warmer clime of Arizona. Ray doubtless felt an obligation to go not only as the ex-husband, but as the representative of his parents who had been very close to his late ex-wife.

"Vecchio didn't call you?"

"He may well have done, but I haven't been at the Consulate."

He nodded. "I thought maybe, if you were going down for the funeral, you could come with me."

"Of course I'll go - for your sake and for Ray's."

For the first time in a month Ray gave me a genuine, albeit brief smile. "That'd be good - to tell you the truth, I don't know how I'm gonna handle it. Stella being dead, the funeral - Vecchio. It'll be better if you were there."

"I'd be delighted to help. But right now, I think I should really return to the Consulate and see if Ray has left a message, and call him. I imagine he's pretty devastated."

Ray didn't comment. I'd never really determined exactly how he'd felt about Ray Vecchio, or his wife's remarriage to him. He'd made a few remarks about Ray but on the whole, his animosity was far less than I had feared considering his reaction to Alderman Orsini's courting of Stella. But then, Ray Vecchio was a much better person than Orsini, and could be depended upon to protect and to cherish Stella as much as Ray Kowalski had. Now was certainly not the time to enquire.

I collected Diefenbaker and Ray dropped us back to the Consulate. "Ray - are you all right?" I asked as I got out of the car. He nodded. "I'll come over this evening if you like."

I hadn't visited his apartment in months, but I wasn't sure that he  would want to be alone. He disabused me of the worry. "I'll be okay, Fraser. There are people I gotta call, people Vecchio won't have contacted.  I'll see you back at the precinct."

"What about the paperwork?"

"Nah, don't worry. It's nearly done. Anyway, it's time you got loaned out to someone else now."

I waved him off and wondered at the way he'd said that. He meant it to be light but there was an undertone of bitterness. Did he resent sharing my time? He'd never said, and he preferred to work alone - even my assistance was at times annoying to him. I thought he was just depressed at the sad news - so shocking to hear of the death of one so young even when they were not formerly close to you - and there was the case also.

As I suspected, Ray Vecchio had called the Consulate and left two messages - he must have wondered why I hadn't called him back. It took several attempts to reach him - his line was constantly engaged, but when I did, the relief was apparent even through his obvious grief. I could hear the tears in his voice as he told me how Stella had been driving home in a thunderstorm when another driver went through a red light. She died at the scene. I felt for Ray - his love and affection for Stella was genuine and their marriage all too short. He had settled in well in Florida, and I knew he was happy, that they had been talking about starting a family at long last. I let him talk, he needed to tell the whole story.

Finally he asked, "Benny, will you come down? For the funeral?"

"Yes, of course. You don't have to ask, Ray."

"You missed the wedding."

Ah. That still hurt, I knew. Ray Kowalski and I had heard the news from Maggie in Inuvik.  Ray Vecchio had wanted me to be best man, but by the time we heard about it, he and Stella were already on honeymoon, having decided that my absence shouldn't delay things. I felt I had let Ray Vecchio down - and so did he. "I know, Ray. I'll always regret that."

I heard him sigh. "I don't know why I brought that up. Doesn't matter now. Look - the house will be full, Francesca is coming down, Ma's not, but Stella's parents are. I can find you a hotel room..."

"That won't be necessary, Ray. You will have enough to concern yourself with. I'll locate one on the Internet."

"I need you here, Fraser."

"I know. I'll be there."

I hung up and realized I hadn't mentioned that Ray Kowalski would be coming also.

Consulate business kept me from returning to the precinct that day - when I called him, Ray insisted that I didn't come back, and that he was quite capable of finishing up the details on the case.  I took him at his word, but wished he had not asked me not to call over to his home that night. There was something wrong, I thought, about a man being on his own after hearing about the death of someone he loved so dearly. I well knew the pain of that, but in Ray's case he was not obliged to suffer alone. When, I wondered, had we become so distant from each other that he felt that I would not want to be with him at such a time, phone calls or no phone calls?

I confess I spent rather more time contemplating the possible change in our friendship than was actually fitting for a RCMP corporal but in the end I felt there was nothing that I could do about it in the present circumstances. Diefenbaker looked at me as I finally finished staring at the ceiling as if to say 'Taken you long enough', to which I tartly replied that not everyone had the luxury of lolling about and watching all the goings on. He treated that comment with the contempt I had long since come to expect from him.

I presented myself at the precinct early the next day, but Ray was not in, to my surprise. Lieutenant Welsh was there however, the first cup of coffee of the day already in his hand . He asked me to step into his office and to sit down.

"If you're looking for Ray, he said he'd be late. He's making arrangements for the flight to Florida."

"Ah. He said he would - I didn't realize he would have to take time off to do that."

"I told him to. Fraser - can I ask you something?"

"Of course, sir. "

He leaned forward in his chair.

"Does Ray seem all right to you?"

"I'm not sure what you mean - you mean generally, or just since he got the news about Stella?"

He sat back and spread his hands expansively.

"Generally - your impression."

"Well sir, as you know, I've only worked with him on this one case recently..." I could see he was impatient. "But no. I'd have to say he seems subdued. I assumed it was the case we've been working on."

"He's been like that since you got back from Canada more or less. Getting quieter and quieter. I swear sometimes I miss that mouth of his."

"Perhaps he's just fitting in better. Now that he's no longer undercover, I mean."

Welsh shook his head. "No, that's not it. He's holding himself in, hiding something. Look - if the news about Stella had come a year ago, you'd have noticed a complete difference in him, wouldn't you?"

"Well - yes. But with her marriage to Ray - Ray Vecchio - I thought perhaps he'd learned a little detachment about her."

Welsh gave an impatient snort. "There's detachment and then there's brain death.  Ray was just the same after the news as before. I can tell you, as his boss and as his friend, he's worrying the hell out of me."

"I can understand your concern, sir, but I don't really know what I can do."

"Talk to him. You're going to Florida with him - talk on the plane. Find out what's wrong. He's your friend, Fraser, and my best detective. I want to know if there's something that is gonna be a problem."

"I'll do my best, sir."

"You always do. That'll be all, Corporal."

I worked at Ray's desk for a couple of hours before he appeared. He looked even more tired than he had done the previous day. He handed me an airline ticket wallet. "It's all set. Thursday night, nine o'clock."

"Thank you, Ray. May I ask how you are?"

" 'Bout as good as you can be after an evening on the phone giving bad news to people."

He leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, the styrofoam cup of coffee he'd brought in with him forgotten. For a moment I thought he might be falling asleep, but then he said, "I'm okay, Fraser. Stop watching me."

"I'm sorry. I was just wondering if there was something other than Stella's death bothering you?"

He tipped forward abruptly,  sitting up. "No.  Are we done with this paperwork yet? Cos Joe Murphy was looking for you yesterday. I think he wanted you to call in."

Which was his unsubtle way of telling me to shut up. I confirmed that we were in fact done and stood up, ready to search for Detective Murphy. "Ray - if there is anything, anything at all - you know you can talk to me."

"That's good, Fraser, but there isn't, so blow, will ya? If I don't see you before, I'll pick you up at the Consulate at six on Thursday - don't be late, the traffic will be a killer."

"Right you are." I left him then, his head now resting on his fists on the desk. Perhaps he really was just tired.

Our paths didn't cross for the two days until our flight, but I was ready and waiting for him on the steps of the Consulate at six. He was on time and barely waited for me to close the door before moving off - the traffic was very heavy and he had been wise to allow plenty of time to catch our flight.

"Where's Dief?"

"Mrs. Gamez." My former neighbor often looked after my wolf.

He grunted in acknowledgment. The traffic demanded that he pay more attention than usual and I respected his need to concentrate - or at least the silence that I assumed resulted from this.  But once we got closer to O'Hare, I asked "Have you been keeping all right, Ray?"

He risked a quick glance at me, and a brief smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Fraser, we're flying to my ex-wife's funeral. It's not something I've been looking forward to."

"I understand."

"I know. I'm glad you're coming."

The flight, which was delayed,  took three hours and we arrived in Tampa at one am. Ray had dozed most of the flight, and didn't want to talk. I didn't have the heart to intrude on his rest despite Lieutenant Welsh's injunction - we had two days ahead of us to discuss what was bothering him.

We got to our hotel and registered. By this time, two am, I was having to nudge Ray every minute or so,  had to take his arm to stop him stumbling and by the time I had deposited him on one of the beds in the room, I was annoyed with him. "Just how much sleep have you had this week?"

He yawned. "Not enough - never do."

"You need to look after yourself, Ray."

He looked directly at me. "Been doing that for a while, Fraser.  Leave me alone." The warning was clear - he didn't want mothering. Fine - but that wouldn't stop me worrying.

The funeral was at eleven so we would only get about six hours sleep. Ray went off quickly but I found the disruption to my circadian rhythm was enough to keep me awake for sometime - long enough to note that while Ray may have been sleeping, he was not sleeping soundly. He talked and called out, he moved around - the reason of his exhaustion seemed obvious. But then, as he said, there was a difficult day ahead - drawing conclusions based on so little evidence was not wise.

But it wasn't the soft noises Ray was making that kept me awake. It was thinking how once we shared everything - he would tell me about his parents, his relationship with Stella, his guilt over Beth Botrelle. He was involved in every part of my life, it seemed - until we came back from Canada. Now even the fact he was sleeping badly was something he wanted to conceal from me. Had I lost his trust somehow? Had the change in our working relations made such a difference to how he thought of me? We needed to talk, I decided - and not just because Welsh had asked me to. But not until after the funeral.

I woke early as usual, but made myself stay in bed and try to get a couple more hours rest - I needed it, and moving about would wake Ray who _really_ needed it. Just before eight he stretched and yawned so I risked using the bathroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, still rubbing his face, when I came out.  "All yours."

He nodded and went into the bathroom without comment. I dressed in my only suit - Ray had hinted that the serge would not be welcome, but in fact I wouldn't have worn it to a private funeral. Ray wore a light suit which surprised me since I knew he had several dark ones. But when I asked him, his face twisted briefly in pain. "This was ... uh ...  Stella's favorite."  There seemed no appropriate response to this.

He was quiet as we ate breakfast although he did mention that he'd never been to Florida before. He also told me that Welsh had more or less ordered him to take the following week off, and I wondered why neither man had said anything about this before. "What will you do?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Could go to visit Mom and Dad. Or I could just sleep for a week."

I silently thought the later would do the most good.  We ate at a leisurely pace, as if we were on vacation and not on such a sad mission. We talked about anything but the coming funeral - the last case, Dief's new lady friend, my neighbors and their unending marital difficulties. Ray brightened a little with the ingestion of the excellent coffee and even became talkative, but after I paid for the meal and we got ready to hail a cab, he suddenly said, "I don't know if I can do this."

I dropped the hand I had up to stop a taxi and turned to him. "You don't have to go, Ray. People would understand."

"I don't care about people, Fraser. This is about me and Stella."

"She would understand too," I said as gently as I could.

"No, she wouldn't. Stella was the bravest person I knew - next to you. She did what had to be done, and didn't care if it hurt her, or me.  But I don't know..."

For the first time since he got the news I saw tears in Ray's eyes. I led him back into the hotel restaurant and ordered more coffee.  "Ray - there's no shame in being upset about this."

"I wasn't there," he whispered. "I couldn't protect her. I promised her I would always protect her and be there for her. But I wasn't there, and she died. What does that make me?"

He dropped his head, looking  at his cup. I put my hand on his arm. "Stella made her own choices. You couldn't stop her - and nor should you have done.  What happened could have happened anywhere - whether you were married or not."

"That's not the point, Fraser. It happened here because we divorced and she married Vecchio. Nothing can change that."

Again I had no answer. I let him collect himself and he made a visible effort to do so. He cracked his neck and excused himself to go to the washroom to tidy up.

He came back in a couple of minutes, face washed and looking determined. "OK?" I asked.

"I'm good. Let's go."

We were early and a previous funeral was still going on in the church. We walked around the churchyard.  "You talked to Vecchio?" he asked.

"Yes. He wanted me to be here."

"Does he know?"

"That you're coming? I don't know - I suppose he might realize you probably will be."

"I don't hate the guy, Fraser. Can't blame him for having good taste."

"No, I suppose not. And he really did love her, you know."

"So did I."

"Are you going to be able to do this?"

He stopped and looked at me. "I have to. It's the last thing I can do for her. It's just ... well, I never thought..."

"I know. You'll be fine." I checked my watch. "People should be arriving - do you want to join them?"

He shook his head. "No - Vecchio and his family will be there. I don't want to be obvious. Give it a few minutes."

He seemed to be as worried about Ray Vecchio's reaction as he was about the actual funeral. I hoped for both their sakes Ray Vecchio would be civil, but I knew what he was like when he was hurt and grieving. It wasn't a memory I particularly cherished.

We walked slowly back to the church - an imposing stone building, Catholic of course. Ray was still practicing, Stella was lapsed. Ray had once told me that he hadn't been to Mass since he was a teenager. Catholic requiems are long and calculated to wring the emotions so it was likely to be an ordeal for all concerned. Fortunately the first person to spot us was Francesca, big with child and blooming with it. She embraced me warmly and then Ray, kissing him gently on the cheek and not letting him go as she spoke. "Oh, Ray - I hoped you'd come. You must feel awful."

"Been better, Frannie. But look at you - I thought you did all this already?" indicating her stomach.

"This is three and four." At his shocked look, she laughed. "My friends had friends, and they asked nicely, so what can you do?" Francesca has moved to Ottawa to be a surrogate mother for two gay friends and had decided to stay for a while up in Canada.

"Frannie, this isn't like borrowing sugar."

"I know - but I like being pregnant. And I've got plenty of time for my own."

The way she said it told both of us that the opportunity may have presented itself. "So who's the lucky guy?"

She blushed, making a most becoming picture, if I did say so myself. "See for yourself." We turned and saw a familiar face. Ray said "Shit" under his breath as former constable Turnbull appeared, a huge smile on his big face.

"Ray - Constable Fraser! What a pleasure! Uh - well, not a pleasure, but ..."

I interrupted his confused backpedalling. "We understand. And it's Corporal now. Francesca, I take it you are here with Renfield?"

She took his arm and the grin on Ray's face nearly undid me. Turnbull is nearly two meters tall, Francesca half a meter shorter. They looked ... well, it was hardly chivalrous to say. But they looked happy, and if it weren't such a sad occasion, I would have been entirely glad to see both of them again, even if both of them together was something of a surprise. But just then the hearse arrived, followed by Ray Vecchio's limousine. We all stood aside respectfully and went in behind the family and the coffin. Ray Kowalski had become rigid, his expression unreadable. Francesca joined her brother of course, and Turnbull sat with us discreetly at the rear of the church.

It was, if anything, more painful than I expected. I couldn't claim to have known Stella Kowalski well, or even to have liked her that much, but one would have to be made of stone not to have been moved by the words spoken by her father, her friends - and by Ray Vecchio, who got to the end of his eulogy without breaking down although it was a close thing. He looked utterly appalling. But when I glanced at Ray Kowalski, he gave Ray Vecchio a run for his money as to who looked worse.  The mass was an hour long, and the heavy smell of incense and the heat of the packed church was positively nauseating. Ray was pale and sweating and I was half afraid he would pass out. He sensed me looking at him, and gave me a slight head jerk to indicate that he was all right.

Finally the long service was over. Stella's body was to be cremated and the hearse took the coffin and the numerous bouquets away. Now I could give my condolences in person to Ray Vecchio. He clapped me on the back and hugged me. "Benny, God I'm glad you're here." He saw my companion. "Stanley," he said in brief - and slightly rude - acknowledgment. Ray Kowalski colored and I saw his posture change infinitesimally, but then Turnbull, in a unusual display of tact, took Ray's arm and led him away in conversation, leaving me and Ray Vecchio alone.

"How are you, Ray?"

He sagged. "What do you think, Fraser? I don't know what's worse - knowing your wife's dead, or having to deal with all the shitty details afterwards. It hasn't hit, ya know? With the funeral, and her will, and the family - to tell the truth, I'm just tired. Are you coming back to the house now?"

"Yes, if you want me to."

"Don't be stupid, Benny - of course I do. Look, I gotta talk to those people. Catch a lift with Francesca. I'll see you there." Then he was swept away by a group of crying elderly ladies.

I looked around but couldn't see Ray, although Turnbull was back talking to Francesca. "Where's Ray?" I asked him.

"He asked me to leave him to be alone - he's in the graveyard." He leaned in towards me. "To be honest with you, Corporal," he said in confidential tones, "he didn't look too well."

"Ren, why didn't you say?" Francesca chided. "Come on, Fraser, let's go find him," she said leaving Turnbull looking slightly confused behind her.

We found him in a secluded spot - a peaceful place, with a bench and overhanging trees. His head was down and his fists were clenched in front of him. Francesca sat next to him. "Ray, are you all right?"

For answer, he suddenly turned and put his head on her shoulder. She hugged him and patted him and looked at me helplessly. All I could do was stay back - she could deal with this better than me, however much I wished I could help. I heard her talking to him quietly, soothingly. I saw him fumbling for something and guessed for what, so I stepped up and handed him my clean handkerchief. He lifted his head. "S...sorry, guys." He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "Just, uh, a little much, you know."

"Ray, " Francesca said kindly, "she was your ex. It's okay to cry."

Ray pulled away from her and straightened up.  "Frannie - you should be with your brother."

"Oh, don't worry about him. He'll be a while yet, and then we're all going back to the house."

I joined their conversation. "Ah, yes, Ray. Ray - Ray Vecchio - asked me to come back."

"That's ok, Fraser. I'll head back to the hotel."

Francesca was horrified. "Ray Kowalski, you will do no such thing. You come back with me - I'm inviting you and it would be rude to turn me down, wouldn't it?"

She gave him one of her brilliant smiles, and he smiled back. "Yeah, it would. But what about Vech... I mean Ray?"

"Don't worry about him. You shouldn't be alone, Ray."

I echoed her sentiment in my mind, but I wasn't convinced of the wisdom of her invitation. However,  the thought of Ray returning in his present state to an empty hotel room was repugnant and I had already promised Ray Vecchio I would return, so really there was no option.

Francesca took Ray's arm companionably as he stood up, and I felt the tiniest twinge of jealousy that cultural mores permitted her to offer comfort, but refused me the same indulgence. I was, however, glad of her presence, as Ray seemed to be.  Francesca and Turnbull had hired a car for the duration and so could transport us easily to her brother's place. Ray seemed more composed after his breakdown - I imagined he would have died of shame to have revealed such weakness in front of Turnbull.

There were at least two dozen cars parked close to Ray Vecchio's house, and the place was teeming with people. Francesca again took charge of Ray leaving Turnbull and myself to get some food and to find Ray Vecchio. I was in no hurry to do so - I knew Ray would have many calls on his attention and we needed to talk in private and at leisure. I had all afternoon.

In the end it was Ray who sought me out and dragged me upstairs away from the heat and noise of the gathering. We went into his bedroom and he slumped on the bed - actually lay down. "God, I hate this, Fraser. Why the fuck can't we just bury people and go home and hide?"

"Why didn't you?" I ask, not unreasonably.

"Because. Because it's what Stella would have wanted, it's what her family, my family expected. But I'm so damn tired."

"I can understand that, Ray."

He sat up. "The service was nice."

"I thought it was very moving, Ray. Your eulogy was a wonderful tribute."

"She was a wonderful woman, Fraser," he said quietly. "The best. I just wish we'd had more time." He stopped speaking as if speech hurt him suddenly, which it probably did.

"Death never comes at the right time, in my experience."

"Well you would know, that's for sure." He looked at me and his expression changed subtly. "So Benny. You came back to Chicago - why?"

"I have a position there, Ray."

"Don't give me that bullshit, Fraser. Everyone said you coulda had your pick of jobs up in Canada after Muldoon. And yet you came back to be a pencil pusher in America. Doesn't make sense."

"The job's different than it was - I've been promoted, there are more staff, I work with many different police officers now. I hardly work with Ray Kowalski any more."

"Well that's something at least," he said, half under his breath. Suddenly I was tired of Ray's prejudice against Ray Kowalski, grief or no grief.

"You know, Ray - Ray Kowalski is a very fine detective. One of the best. It's an honor to work with him - it always has been."

"He's a loser, Fraser! Look at the fuck up he made of his marriage, for Christ' sake. How could he let someone like Stella slip through his fingers, tell me that, will ya?"

"I don't think 'let' is the appropriate ..."

"She told me about him - how he could never settle properly at anything, took stupid risks all the time, frightening the hell out of her. He kept going on about kids - geez, can you see him as a father, Benny?"

"Actually...."

"He's nuts , that's what he is."

I put my hand up. "Ray - please. I know you're upset but he's my friend and I can't let you insult him this way."

"And why's that, Benny?"

Before I could answer, there was a soft knock at the door. "Yeah," Ray called.

Coming at the worst possible moment, it was Francesca - with Ray Kowalski at her heels. "Ray, I was looking for Fraser."

"Kowalski - come in, will ya?" Ray asked in a deceptively mild voice, and Ray - my Ray - came in hesitantly before I could forestall him.

"I was just asking Fraser why he was always defending you, Stanley, seeing how you're such a failure."

Ray Kowalski's fists curled loosely, but he kept his temper. "Vecchio, out of respect for your loss, I'm not going to say nothing. I think you should do the same."

"Oh  my _**loss,**   _Stanley? _**My** _ loss? That's right - it was **_my_** loss, not yours - why the fuck did you come here? You're not welcome."

"He's here because I invited him, bro'," Francesca said in a tight voice, obviously afraid of the lack of control her brother was exhibiting. "Are you drunk, Ray? This isn't the way you treat a guest and you know it."

"He's no guest of mine."

I stood up. "Ray - I think we should go. " Ray Kowalski stared at his namesake but let me tug him towards the door.

"Is he the reason you came back, Fraser?" Suddenly Ray Vecchio was in front of us, and I wondered if Francesca was right. I couldn't smell alcohol on him, but his behavior was like a belligerent drunk.

"We're going, Ray - I'll call you later."

Ray Vecchio put his hand on my chest, and if Francesca had not been in the room, I might have tempted to knock it away, so roused was my temper. "Answer the question? Why did you come back? Why did you throw away Canada? For him? For this guy? Cos you're crazy if you did - he let Stella down, he'll let you down."

Ray Kowalski moved and I put my arm across him, pulling Ray Vecchio's hand off me at the same time. "Ray - I'm making an allowance for your grief - but please don't say another word. Not if you value our friendship." He started to speak. "Not. One. Word. Or I swear - our friendship is over."

I pushed past him, virtually towing Ray Kowalski behind me, Francesca's white face showing her horror at what she had seen. I did not dare look behind me at Ray Vecchio.

"You can let go, Fraser," Ray said on the stairs, and I realized I still had my hand on his arm.

I dropped it and looked at him. "I'm sorry about that, Ray."

"Why are you apologizing for him?" His voice was mild, belying his grim expression. His eyes were red, surrounded by the dark circles of sleep deprivation, and I guessed more tears had been shed on Francesca's kind shoulder. I had to get away from here - had to get him away from here. We delayed long enough to call a taxi from the house and waited outside.

"I really don't know what brought all that on, Ray."

"If we were wolves, you'd know what was going on," he said not looking at me. He had a point. Territoriality was certainly part of it. I was more inclined to blame Ray Vecchio's exhaustion and his grief, but there was no denying that his words had angered me.

Ray rested with his eyes closed the whole journey back to the hotel and was clearly unwilling to discuss the events at the Vecchio house. His passivity worried me - once it would have taken far more than a hand across his chest to have prevented a physical response to the sort of vicious taunting Ray Vecchio had just indulged in. Yet here he was acting as if he didn't care at all.

Once we were back in our room, he had changed into jeans and a T-shirt and lay down on the bed with his arm across his eyes, I decided I really had to challenge him. "Ray - what's wrong?"

"You mean apart from them cremating my ex-wife, Fraser?"

I winced mentally at his harsh tone but persisted. I sat on the end of his bed. "Yes, I mean exactly that.  Even Lieutenant Welsh has noticed. He's worried about you. So am I. Something's happened, or changed since we got back from Canada, and I need to know what it is. It isn't just that case, is it?"

He shook his head, then moved his arm and looked at me directly. "How about I ask you the same question Vecchio did? Why did you come back? Why did you throw away Canada? You tell me that and I might tell you something."

"All right. I came back because of my job."

"No, you didn't."

"I did, Ray. I have an important job at the Consulate - I wanted to continue with that."

Ray sat up and stared at me again, challenge in his eyes. "Fraser, that's a lie. You don't lie."

"It's not..."

"It's a fucking lie and you know it. You hated the job at the Consulate. Maggie said you coulda gone anywhere up North. OK, so things are better - now. But that is not the reason you came back. So tell me straight."

Oh dear. This wasn't going as I had imagined it at all. But perhaps there really wasn't anything for it but the complete unvarnished truth. "All right. I came back because of you. Does that satisfy you?"

He gave me a grim smile. "That's more like it. But why, Fraser?  Just because I'm your friend?"

"No."

"Right, now we're getting somewhere. Let me have a guess. You've been working with me for two years, we go on our little adventure, sharing sleeping bags and tents, getting nearly killed a dozen times, and all of a sudden you go, 'Hey, that Ray guy, he's kinda cute. Guess I might be in love with him.' Is that it?"

It sounded so foolish the way he put it, but I nodded. "Something along those lines. I never meant you to know - it doesn't change things, I hope."

"Too late," he said softly. "Everything changed when I fell in love with you."

To say I was flabbergasted by this admission would be to vastly underestimate my surprise. "Ray? Are you serious, or are you just making fun of me?"

"Wish I was, Fraser buddy. The sad fact is that I've been carrying a torch for you for like forever - good thing you just don't pay that much attention to me when it comes to stuff like that."

He could have been right of course. I never was very good at picking up those sorts of signals. "But this is good news, surely - now you know how I feel? Now you don't have to keep your distance - which is what I'm assuming you've been doing."

So strange to talk about this openly, and in such a detached manner. This was not how I fantasized about finding out about his feelings. He gave me another humorless smile. "I coulda picked a better time to talk to you about this - this is not a great day for thinking about my love life. Listen, Fraser - nothing changes. I already decided that and what you said doesn't make any difference. Hell, I sort of knew what you felt anyway. But you and me - it's a pipe dream. It's never gonna work."

"Why do you say that, Ray? You love me, I love you - we're already friends, close friends. I'd have thought we have the perfect basis for a relationship."

He barked a laugh. "You mean like me and Stella. Forget it."

"I just don't understand," I pleaded with him. I moved closer to him on the bed, but he moved back so I stopped.  "Why is it so impossible?"

"Because it's a fairy tale, dummy. We live in the real world - we're cops. You've never been married - hell, I don't suppose you've even been laid more than half a dozen times in your whole life ..."

"Slightly more than that," I say stiffly.

"Sorry - didn't mean to make out you were a virgin or nothing. But the point is, you've never had kids, you've never had the life you shoulda had. I blew my chance, but you're still young, only 38, right? Plenty of time. A whacko divorced cop is not who you should be with. And I'm not gonna spend my life living a fantasy any more. I've been doing that too long - hoping things would work out with Stella, hoping we'd get back together after the divorce, hoping going undercover would make life better. Well now I know this is the real thing - this is my life, I need to get used to it. And that means not sleeping with you or being in love with you or any of that."

"You can turn your feelings off so easily?" I said, rather coldly.

"Oh sure, I'm Mr. Cool, haven't you noticed?" he replied sarcastically. "No, Fraser I can't. But I can stop living in your pocket and hanging around you. I think it's good what's happened at work - I think we needed the space."

"Ray..." I moved again and didn't let him stop me this time. I took his hand. "You've made all of these decisions on your own - what about what I want? I love you, deeply and sincerely. I'm not looking for someone else - you're all I want."

"You mean like Victoria was?" His tone was cutting and I dropped his hand. "Ben - you know fuck all about life and women and love. You just aren't able to make these choices.  You gotta trust me on this."

"No."

He curled his lip in what almost looked like a smile, but wasn't. "You don't get a say in this."

"Maybe so, but you can't tell me who to love and who not to. We may not be together, but my feelings won't change."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat with his head hanging down, I could see he was riven by exhaustion and as he said, this was hardly an ideal day to talk about this. I put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry - maybe we should talk about this in Chicago."

He shook his head. "No - that's one thing I'm sure about. I do _not_ want to talk about this in Chicago. This ends here. We thrash this out, you get over it."

"I can't - I can't turn my feelings off like that."

"You learn to, trust me."

"How can I trust you when you've been hiding your feelings for me for so long, and you want me to deny my own?" I said hotly.

"Fraser - you really don't understand the way things are."

"No, I don't, Ray - and nothing you've said is making it clearer. You expect me to take your admission of love and what? Just, just ... put it in my foot locker along with my other keepsakes and take it out to look at every few months? I don't work like that. I didn't think you did."

I didn't know whether I was more angry or desperate but my unwonted emotion clearly had an impact on him.  He cupped his face in his hands, hiding it for a moment, then he rubbed his face. "God, you never give up, do you? OK - here's the offer. You arrange to get next week off. We'll trade in our plane tickets, hire a car and drive back to Chicago. While we're on the road, all bets are off. But once we're back - that is absolutely it. No more. I'm too old to be a gay cop and you're too ... too fucking you to waste yourself on me. Is that a deal?"

I wanted to protest but he put up a finger. "Uh uh, Fraser. It's like that or nothing - if you can't get leave, tough. If you can't accept that it finishes in a week, tough too. Deal?"

I thought. I hated what he was saying. "All right - deal."

"OK. But not tonight. Tonight's for Stella. You go make your calls to the Consulate downstairs. I'm going to take a nap - I'm whacked."

He lay down and closed his eyes in dismissal. I left the room and closed the door quietly, but my heart was beating so fast that I thought he was sure to be able to hear it. I had to lean against the wall in the corridor for a moment. Ray had granted my dearest wish and destroyed my hopes for the future all in the space of a heartbeat - and in the next, offered me a glimpse of paradise for a bare week. It was too much like Victoria - the brief interlude of happiness between long periods of grinding longing and loneliness. I shouldn't have agreed - I should go back in there and tell him that I wouldn't accept such a tainted compromise. But even as the words I wanted to say formed in my head, I knew I would never do it. What if I turned this down, and I never got the chance to be with him again?  Ray was a very determined man - I knew that.  He became a cop despite his father's fierce opposition, and was prepared to be ostracized by his family for eight years rather than back down. If I forced him into a corner, he would not give in - all I would do was hurt him.

Oh God. I didn't know what I should do - but I knew what I was going to do, despite all my instincts telling me not to. I called the Consulate and said a problem of a personal nature had come up. Fortunately the solving of the child murder case and other successes meant I was in good standing and my request for leave was granted with only the minimum of grumbling about the irregular procedure.  Then I called Mrs. Gamez who agreed to keep Dief a little longer. I didn't go back to our room immediately - Ray said he wanted to sleep, and I wasn't sure I was calm enough to talk to him.  I retreated to the hotel cafe and ordered tea. Ray had said he half knew I was in love with him - how was it I had missed signs of his attraction to me? Or had I? Thinking back, I suppose I had just written off his constant concern, his touches - the intense looks I sometimes found him giving me - as just an extension of his friendship. Ray Vecchio had... Oh God.  If we were wolves ... with one bone and two alphas.  And to think I prided myself on my powers of observation.

My pot of tea was long empty and the attentions of the waitress finally penetrated the fog of thought. I paid the bill, glad I had at last managed to arrange for my pay to arrive in American dollars after all this time in this country, and went upstairs. Now I had two problems and they both involved my best friends - I was in danger of losing one because his jealousy of Ray Kowalski, and the other because I loved him not wisely but too well.  I thought perhaps on the whole I should cancel the leave and fly back as planned - things were too complicated, too much rested on this week being a success and it was doomed to failure before we started.

But when I went back in, I saw my Ray lying on his back with his mouth a little open. My heart melted and I was lost. He looked so young, so tired and I couldn't resist him or the chance to be close to him for even an hour, let alone a week. I sat on the bed next to him and stroked his face gently, tracing the deep lines of weariness, of experience - of laughter and love. I loved him when his eyes were shut because he looked so peaceful - I loved him when his eyes were open because they held his soul, his fire, the very essence of the man I trusted and wanted more than anyone else in the world.

He stirred and I cupped his cheek, rubbing the cheek bone with my thumb. His eyes opened and I bent and kissed him. He made a contented sound in his throat and rubbed his cheek against my hand, closed his eyes again. "Did you sleep?" I asked.

"A bit."

"Still sad?"

He nodded but didn't say anything. We sat together like that for a while in silence, me stroking his face, him with his eyes shut, occasionally twisting to give my hand a kiss. Don't do this, Ray, I pleaded in my mind. Don't give me this and take it away - you're wrong, completely wrong.

The phone rang. Ray opened his eyes but it was I who picked up the receiver and heard Francesca's voice.

"Fraser? Oh thank god.  Look - I'm so sorry about this afternoon. Is Ray OK? I feel terrible - I made him go ..."

"He's fine, Francesca - he knows Ray was upset." Ray quirked an eyebrow at me but didn't contradict me.

"Fraser - he's ... I'm worried, he's, well, you saw." Her frustration was clear, and it sounded as if our departure had done little to calm Ray Vecchio down.

"Francesca - Ray's lost his wife, of course he's upset. Has his doctor been to see him?"

"No," she said uncertainly. "Do you think that would help?"

"Possibly -  Ray was very tired. A good night's sleep is probably what he needs more than anything."

"Do you think you could come over and talk to him?"

I tipped the receiver away from my mouth as I thought. "Do you think that's wise, Francesca? It might do more harm than good. My presence today may have inflamed things - I don't want to risk that again. And besides, Ray Kowalski needs me too."

"No, Frase - you're right," she said resignedly. "I wasn't thinking. I'll call Dr Pearson and ask him to come by. Are you sure Ray - Ray Kowalski - is OK? I mean, my brother's got a pretty nasty mouth."

"I'll take care of him - you look after Ray. And Francesca? Ask him to call or visit me when he's next in Chicago."

"You sure, Frase?"

"Of course. What happened today is forgotten - he's still my friend. Will you tell him that? And please tell him again how sorry I am about Stella."

"I will. You look after yourself and that big lunk, OK?"

"You too, Francesca."

I hung up. Ray looked at me quizzically. "Vecchio still running amok?"

I rubbed my eyebrow. "So it would seem. I gave some thought to what you said earlier. You think Ray is jealous of you because of me, not Stella."

He shrugged. "Bit of both, I guess."

"You surely don't think he's in love with me?"

Ray gave me a quirked grin. "I doubt it - and even if he was, he'd never admit it. No, I just figure he's pissed at me for taking you away - and maybe he thinks I'm a bad influence or something."

"You know, what he said this afternoon  - that was very wrong of him."

"Forget it. Like you said to Frannie, he's upset. Anyway, he doesn't know the first thing about Stella and me."

He sat up and cracked his shoulders and stretched. "I better call the airline. Damn, I was forgetting. Neither of us have brought enough clothes. I guess we could get some spare T-shirts ... I don't suppose you packed your swimsuit?" I shook my head. "Well, that's no good - it's too hot not to swim. Look - how about I call the airline, make the arrangements. You go down and see if the gift store sells shirts and swimsuits."

He told me his size - same as me -  and offered some cash which I refused. I'd seen a suitable store just down the way from the hotel which would probably suit our needs - I had to confess the idea of a swim sounded like heaven.

The store was well supplied and I selected six cheap white cotton T-shirts that either of us could wear, and two pairs of swimming costumes which were rather brief but the only style available. Ray smiled when I showed them to him. "Fraser, I'll have to beat the women off you with a stick, not that I don't have to anyway. Where did you think we were going? Venice Beach?"

I peered at the scraps of polyester which seemed even less modest than they had in the packet. "It's all they had, Ray."

"Don't sweat it, Fraser - it could be the solution to all our problems." And with that discouraging comment he hooked one of the hotel bath robes out of the closet and went to the bathroom to change. He found me staring into space, rubbing the cloth of my swimming costume between my fingers. "Come on, buddy," he said kindly. He pulled me up and hugged me. I kissed him with more passion than I had before but he pushed me away. "Not tonight. Go get changed."

The costume was really quite ridiculously small - I felt almost naked and wished I had thought to slip my RCMP issue shorts into my suitcase. But Ray insisted on me opening my bath robe so he could admire the effect. "Ooh boy, Fraser - you're gonna burn."

"Well, I think I'll be all right today - it's late enough. But if you plan on swimming on the rest of the trip, then I'll need to get some lotion."

"Better make sure that string's tight - don't want you getting an all over tan, do we? Wow - that blush goes way down, don't it?"

I pulled my robe shut. "So glad to be some amusement to you, Ray," I muttered but he just laughed.  And I reflected on how long it had been since I had heard that sound.

The hotel pool was fairly empty - there were two middle-aged couples on the deck chairs but no one in the water.  Even though it was now nearly six, the air was still pleasantly warm and the water called to me. I stripped off and dove in without even looking to see if Ray was behind me. The coolness was wonderful. I looked up and saw him standing at the edge of the pool, apparently debating whether to jump straight in or to climb down the steps. I'd seen Ray in a state of undress before, but not since we'd returned from Canada - and the sight took my breath away. Not that he was perfect - he seemed to have lost a little weight, but the muscle definition he'd acquired on the hard months up north he'd retained. It was just I had never had my chance to look my fill - my feelings for him had been entirely mental, concerned with companionship and tenderness - but now ... I was hit by a wave of lust and suddenly the water was not quite cold enough. He saw me looking and I knew that my admiration was plain. The devil stretched a little, making the muscles over his ribs flex and I had to do something before I embarrassed myself. So I splashed him.

"You _bastard,_ Fraser - that's cold!" forgetting the audience who gave him stony looks for his language.

"Hardly, Ray - I judge the water to be at least 20 degrees. It's quite balmy in fact."

"Yeah, for someone who's half polar bear, you mean." I moved  down to the shallower end and encouraged him with a flick of my head to jump in, which he promptly did right in front of me, deluging me with water. Almost instantaneously the two couples, apparently friends, got up and left the courtyard, broadcasting hostility at Ray who kept splashing me regardless. And then we were quite alone.

"Ray. Ray. Ray," I said patiently through his onslaught. "Ray!"

"What?"

"They've gone." I swam up to him and stood in front of him. "You see? Once you let go of the fear of it being cold, it's very pleasurable." I put my arms around his waist under the water.

"It's ok for a while, Fraser. But sooner or later you have to get out again." We both knew this wasn't about the water temperature. But then he smiled and leaned back. Startled, I let him go and he floated, still keeping one eye on me.

"I thought you couldn't swim," I said accusingly.

"Can't.  But any fool can float. Come on." He moved away by dint of waggling his hands, pushing himself along the water.  I followed his example and floated on my back, following him. The loss of sound save his gentle splashing gave me a sense of being isolated - from him, the hotel, the events of a trying day. Thoughts of what it would be like in a week's time. Lying like this in water that was the perfect temperature for me (whatever Ray said) I felt as if time had stopped - that we could be here like this forever. But of course we couldn't - my head banged on something. Ray. He'd stopped and stood up and I had floated into him. I felt his hands on my shoulders - strong firm hands that could fire a gun or caress a face as easily. I cantilevered myself upright and turned to face him. We were now neck deep in water.

"Enjoying yourself?"

He nodded. "It's nice. Nice to be with you," he admitted.

"It could be like this forever, you know." He frowned and began to walk towards the shallow end again. "Ray, please, don't walk away."

He didn't stop until he was at the steps where he sat and glared at me. "Are you going to do this all week? Cos if you are, I'm stopping it right here, right now.  Fraser - we had a deal. I don't mind us playing happy families until we get back, but I told you, we got no future."

"You had this conversation with Stella, didn't you," I realized.

"Yeah - and she was right, and so am I. So what's it to be?"

"You can't blame me for wanting more, Ray. Such a constraint is artificial - it puts us under enormous stress."

He shrugged and pretended to be uninterested. "So, don't do it - we can forget about it. You fly home tomorrow, I'll drive back. No problem."

He was looking at his feet kicking in the water as he spoke. I put my hand under his chin and lifted his head.  His eyes were  stricken looking.  "Ray - you want this as much as I do. Please don't drive me away."

He twisted his head out of my hand. "Don't, Fraser. Don't make this harder than it has to be. Look - I lost the love of my life this week. We went to her funeral today, remember? I got just enough ... whatever," he held up his thumb and forefinger about a centimeter apart, " to go through with this. Don't push or I swear, I'll walk away.  I haven't got any more to give you." His voice shook a little and I could see he was holding himself in, desperate not to collapse or to rage at me.

I put my hand on his knee. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. But you have to promise me one thing - that whatever happens, our friendship remains."

He shook his head and climbed out of the pool. "I can't." He walked quickly back into the hotel leaving me stunned. No - that was unacceptable. I got out, grabbed my robe and walked after him but he had already got in the lift. He also had the key to our room.  Damn him. Damn me - why couldn't I make him see he was wrong?

I knocked on the door but there was no answer at first which made me feel rather foolish, dressed only as I was in a provokingly small swimming costume and a robe. I continued to knock and eventually the door opened. Ray looked sheepish, rubbing his hair with one towel, another wrapped around his waist. "Sorry - I forgot I had the key and jumped in the shower."

I pushed him back into the room. "I need to know what you meant, Ray. I'm not losing your friendship over this."  He backed away and sat in an armchair. "Ray..."

"Shut up, Fraser."

"No, I won't - I'm prepared to accept you don't want a sexual relationship in Chicago. But I refuse to accept any decision of yours which destroys a friendship which means more to me than anything else in the world."

"Fraser - just drop it. I told you - I haven't got..."

I took his hands and knelt down in front of the chair. "No - I can't. I'm sorry. Ray - I didn't want to accept your offer  because I was afraid this would happen. Are you saying that even if I go home tomorrow, you don't see our friendship surviving?"

He looked at me with his large, beautiful eyes which had captured me from the moment I first saw him. There was sadness, and resignation in them, and then he nodded. "Yeah. It's too late - now you know, and now I know. Look Fraser - how can we go back to just being buddies, huh? Every time I look at you, I'll know what you're thinking about. And you me. It'll drive us nuts."

"You don't know that."

"You're telling me I don't know? Who was the one who had to look at Stella every five minutes waltzing around the precinct? Do you think I ever once, even for a second, forgot I loved her? Why the hell do you think she was so fucking mean to me - it drove her crazy, knowing I wanted us to get back together. You'll do the same to me."

"Then the only choice we have to go forward if we can't go back."

"We can't do that - I told you..."

"You told me a lot of things I was supposed to feel and think, Ray. How about you let me speak for myself?"

"Now that would make a change." Incredibly he smiled.

I stroked his hand. "Ray - I may be inexperienced. I may even be naive. But I do know my own mind. I don't fall in love easily or often. If Victoria had not betrayed me so totally, had not irrevocably shown how wrong I was about her, I would doubtless still be in love with her and we would not be having this conversation. If I'm honest, I would have to say there is a tiny part of me that still hopes she is happy and that the woman I thought she was is still there somewhere.  I know you far better than I did her - I know there is no chance you will betray me the way she did. There is equally no chance that my feelings will change - no matter how far apart we are or how often we see each other. So you see, all you're doing is inflicting misery for no reason. On both of us."

He looked at me solemnly for a long while. I held his hand and rubbed his leg, hoping my touch might convince him where my words cannot. Then he smiled briefly. "All right. You win - you always do."

"It's not a game, Ray - I only want what you want."

"I know, Fraser. But you're right - we can't fight this. But we have to take it slow - no PDAs, no moving in together. And - I still want tonight for Stella."

"Of course." I sat up and put my arms out hesitantly, and he let me hold him. Was this it? I had won the prize? Please let it be so, I prayed. As his breath warmed the skin of my neck, I could smell the chlorine of the pool water. "I think I should shower."

"You go do that - I gotta call Mom and Dad... uh, tell them ..."

I stood up and put my hand on his shoulder. "Yes. I won't be long."

I let the hot water pour over me, my knees suddenly weak. An hour ago I was facing a nightmare - now with remarkably little argument, Ray had given in. I knew he thought he was doing the right thing by me in trying to force me towards a heterosexual future but my mind didn't work like that - I was no more capable of walking away from him because he was male than I was of deserting Victoria because of her crimes. But Ray was lonely and needed love - invited love - and I could give him that, in whatever packaging.

He had finished his call and was dressed again when I came back. "How is your mother?"

"Still pretty upset - Stella was like a daughter to her. I think sometimes she liked her more than she liked me."

"You mean Stella liked your mother more than you?"

"Yeah - Stella's mom, she's nice but a bit rigid. My mom always spoiled Stella."

I sat next to him on the bed. "And what about you - how are you now?"

"I'm good. Life goes on, you know."

I frowned at that but Ray had closed me out, shut his eyes again. The marks of tiredness had not been eradicated by a brief nap nor by our aborted swim. I looked at the clock. "Ray - do you want to eat dinner before you go to sleep?"

He opened his eyes and winced. "I suppose so. Don't feel that hungry but I will later if we don't move now."

He looked so tired I knew sitting in the restaurant would be an ordeal so I ordered some sandwiches from room service.  He really didn't have an appetite and ate less than half his portion. I didn't press him. "What time are we leaving tomorrow?"

"Whenever you like. I just gotta ring the rental company when we get up and tell them when to drop the car off." He yawned. "Look - I'm sorry but I am so whacked it's not funny. I'm gonna hit the sack."

"Uh..."

"What?" He sounded slightly irritated.

"I was going to ask if we could sleep together, but perhaps ..."

"No - it's ok. But no funny business - I couldn't get it up for Cindy Crawford at the moment."

I felt another blush rising and wondered where Ray had got the idea I was a sex maniac. I suppose it was slightly flattering but at the same time, I wondered if he simply thought I wanted to press ahead with our relationship because I couldn't restrain myself. As I took another look at his sagging eyelids and drawn face, I knew that any further discussion about our situation could wait. I cleared the meal things away and cleaned my teeth. I waited until he came out - I felt suddenly awkward about the protocol of the situation. He solved that by stripping down to his boxers and climbing under the covers of his bed with no ceremony whatsoever. "Hurry up, Ben - I'm not gonna be awake in two minutes."

"Right you are." I repeated his action and slid in beside him.  The bed was not quite a double but bigger than I was used to - and Ray hardly took up a lot of space. He was already on his side facing away from me, clearly not wanting any further interaction that night - or so I thought. But as soon as I put my arms around him he rolled over and buried his face in the crook of my neck, plastering himself as close as he could manage. I held him tight, knowing he needed the physical comfort - words were too much at that moment. He was asleep almost instantly.

It wasn't the most comfortable position for me - my arm rapidly lost all feeling under his head - but all I could think was how long I had wanted to hold this man like this, to feel skin against skin, his breath and mine mingling. Even though the day had been sad, and unpleasant at times, I felt utterly content. I knew at last I was where I needed to be.

Unlike the previous night, Ray slept soundly - nary a twitch or a murmur from him that I could tell. He was in exactly the same position he fell asleep in when I woke up with an arm that felt like it was made of lead and a bladder near to bursting. I hardly wanted to wake him  At least I could indulge my new-found love of the smell of his hair, the feel of his eyelashes on my skin - the way he seemed to fit against my body as if we were made to do so. Unfortunately, I really had to urinate. I shook him gently and whispered his name with no response. I called a little louder and this time he grunted. "Ray - I have to get up." He snuffled and rolled off me, back onto his other side. I don't think he actually woke up at all. I looked at the clock - six am. We'd been asleep for ten hours, and I for one had had sufficient rest. I used the bathroom quietly. He was still completely out.  Sloth was not something I had much experience of - but what the heck, I thought. My wolf didn't need walking, we were in no hurry to check out, he was tired, I loved to lie next to him. My conscience gave me no trouble at all.

I fell asleep again and when I next woke it was because he was moving about. "Are you awake, Ray?"

"No."

"Uh huh. Are you sleeping well then?"

He rolled over and resumed his position under my chin. "Smart ass."

"Someone's in a good mood."

"You always talk this much in the mornings?"

"Yes. You know it's eight o'clock?"

"You know I'm on vacation?"

But he moved back so he could see me. "You look better," I said.

"Feel better - shit, it really is eight! You let me sleep for twelve hours?"

"Of course - you needed it."

"You never did when we were in Canada."

"Well, Ray, the circumstances are different now. For instance, in Canada, I couldn't do this." I kissed him gently and he tightened his arms around me, then kissed me back. I'd seen Ray kiss women - kiss Stella - and had always been impressed by his tenderness. To be on the receiving end was delightful. There was no passion behind his embrace, just an affectionate closeness, but to me that was like food and drink after so long on my own.  He nibbled carefully at my lips and at my neck while I stroked his long back - the skin was so hot, no wonder he felt the cold.

He pulled away at last. "I better call the car company." I gave him a last quick peck on the lips before he climbed out and went to the bathroom, yawning and stretching. I got up myself, dressed and packed up my things.  Today would begin our affair proper - my stomach was filling with butterflies at the prospect. I'd never been on a long road trip with him before - the thought of seeing America with him was a pleasant one, but not as pleasant as the idea that I would be _with_ him.

The car was delivered while we ate breakfast and using the map supplied with the vehicle, we plotted our itinerary. One could actually drive to Chicago from Tampa in less than two days, so we would have to dawdle to fill up our week - something I wasn't sure Ray would be keen on doing given his love of driving. But I was somewhat surprised to learn that he'd never been further south than Indianapolis and was perfectly happy to explore. We sketched out a route that would take us to Mobile, Memphis (he said he wouldn't drag me to Graceland, I thanked him kindly for that), Chattanooga ("Just because of the song, huh Fraser?"), Charleston,  Cincinnati,  St. Louis, and then finally Chicago on Friday night.

As we got ready to check out, a thought struck me. "I should call Ray Vecchio."

Ray Kowalski sighed. "Yeah, I guess. But Fraser - I wouldn't tell him about this trip, he'll only freak."

"You could be right."

However, when I called his house, Francesca answered. Ray was still asleep - his doctor had prescribed a sedative.  "I gave him your message, Frase - I think it helped."

"I'm glad, Francesca. I hope I see him  - and you - again soon."

"Maybe I'll be all in white when you see me next, Fraser," she said conspiratorially.

"Perhaps. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

I hung up. "Francesca has serious plans for Turnbull," I told Ray as we carried our bags to the car.

"Yeah - kinda figured that. Gets you off the hook anyway."

"Well, Ray, I think Francesca realized some time ago that she and I would always just be good friends, and to tell you the truth, I think she prefers it that way."

Ray looked skeptical, but there was no doubt that she had transferred her attentions to my former colleague and both seemed to be blooming as a result. She would make an excellent partner in his political career - if it ever got off the ground, that was.

I realized I was wasting time thinking about Turnbull when the man I really wanted to think about was in the driver's seat, buckled up and ready to go.  Ray was still somewhat subdued but as I risked a quick kiss before we drove away, he looked at me and smiled and I fell in love with him all over again.

We didn't talk much the first hour or so. I was genuinely curious about the Florida scenery - leaving Tampa we passed through rolling farmland, ranches, pastures and citrus groves, all very attractive and a pleasant change from urban America.   Ray appeared to be enjoying being behind a steering wheel again. Gradually he began to relax, telling me about some of the vacations his family had taken when he was a child. They had always liked caravanning and had traveled to Montana, North and South Dakota, and Minnesota, until he and his brother had discovered the joys of staying with friends in the city and refused to be stuck in a car for days on end to satisfy his father's wanderlust. "The trouble with Dad was that he liked things to be the same - he wanted to know what was coming. Me, I liked adventure."

"And now you've had one."

"Now I've had more than one, thanks to you, Fraser." I patted his hand and he grinned at me.

We stopped for a brief lunch in Tallahassee but Ray was restless, wanting to get to Mobile in time to do some looking around.  We made Pensacola in less than three hours and that was when our carefully laid plans went out the window. We caught our first sight of the Gulf of Mexico and I was dumbstruck. "Do you smell that?" I said with some awe. The heady mixture of brine and seaweed tugged at me like a siren song.

Ray watched my expression with amusement. "Oceans not like this in the big freezer, Fraser?"

"No ... they're not. Ray ...," I pleaded and he grinned.

"We can take a closer look." He drove us into Orange Beach and without needing to discuss it, booked us into a hotel there. Ray was as eager as I was to go down to the beach and find out just what that blue water and brilliant white sand felt like. We changed and went down. I touched the powdery sand in wonder, and the feel of the warm salty water was like a kiss. The beach was quiet - a few families here and there, but mainly older people. Ray put his hand on my shoulder. "You like?"

"Yes, I do. I've never ... I mean, swimming in the sea in Canada like this ..."

"You'd be a soprano in two seconds flat. Race you?" and then he splashed out in the waveless shallow water. It was the most liberating experience - I'd only ever swum in icy rivers or in municipal pools before - to have all this space, and with total comfort seemed decadent.

"Fuck!" Ray suddenly said.

"What's wrong?"

"Sunscreen - Fraser, you'll die." He was quite correct. Reluctantly we left the beach long enough to find a place to buy the necessary item. Ray surprised me by dropping a pair of sunglasses on my nose and insisting on buying them. "Gotta protect those baby blues, buddy."

We stayed on the beach until sundown - Ray laying on the sand watching me swim. I had fallen in love with the ocean and knew leaving it would be a wrench. However, when I flopped down beside Ray on the magically white sand, he had another surprise for me. "Fraser, how much do you want to see Chattanooga and the rest of those places?"

"The alternative being?"

"Stay here for the week, drive back to Chicago early Friday morning?"

"I would say that would be wonderful - I mean, if you want to go, I don't want to stop you but ..."

"Come off it, Ben - you should see your face. You look like Dief in a donut shop." Ray also looked happier than he had done in a week and I knew his suggestion was not entirely for my benefit.  We abandoned our plans for a whistlestop tour without a trace of regret.

"There'll be another time," I said.

Ray looked at me oddly. "Sure there will, Fraser."

We arranged to keep our room for a week, and gained a discount for doing so. The hotel was pleasant without being luxurious, and had the bonus of being right on the beach and with a balcony overlooking the ocean. I was now very glad Ray had got me to purchase swimming costumes - it looked as if we might wear little else this week.

Even the late afternoon sun had left a blush of color on Ray's face, and I could feel the heat of almost burn on my own skin. We showered and changed into our suits for supper, Ray vowing to hunt down some lighter clothing in the morning. Even the winter temperatures were warmer than the summer norm in Chicago and we welcomed the air-conditioning in the restaurant. I felt constricted by my clothes - strange, when I spent so much of my life wearing a uniform. Ray was edgy too, the relaxation of the beach seeping away as we waited for the food. The hotel staff had recommended a seafood restaurant close by, which suited us fine but the atmosphere was relaxed. Ray suddenly slipped his jacket off and took off his tie, rolling it up and putting it into his jacket pocket. "God, that's better." I hesitated briefly before following his lead. It did feel better, and he grinned. "Wish I had a camera - Benton Fraser, the slob."

"I suspect you'd have more takers for picture of me in that swimming costume, Ray."

"Oh, no, Fraser, those I'd keep."

I felt my skin flush with more than sun but I was spared by the arrival of the food.  I'd never been to a seafood restaurant by the coast before, and the quantity and quality of the meal satisfied even Ray, who had adjudged himself a connoisseur of such things. "Man, that was the best," he said, sitting back with a satisfied air. The air of tension that had clung to him before had entirely dissipated, and he looked happy, carefree, and years younger. Was it only yesterday we'd attended his ex-wife's funeral? Discovering this resort was serendipitous - I could see already that this would be far better for both of us than a frenetic cross-continent tour.

We walked down to the beach. Ray took his shoes and socks off and dared me to join him. I joined him willingly - this was a new experience for me, walking on soft sand in the moonlight. "You ever been swimming at night, Ben?"

"Well, no, Ray. I told you, the water's too cold up North for recreational swimming."

"We gotta try it - it's safe enough here. You gonna teach me to swim?"

"If you like." I looked around - we were on our own. I put my clothing down on the sand. "Ray?"

He bent deliberately, placing his shoes down and his jacket on top with exaggerated care. Then his arms were around me and his lips were on me. I could feel the heat rising off his skin. "You got sunburned," I murmured against his face.

"Not really. I'm just hot."

"Is that right, Ray Kowalski? Isn't that for me to say?"

He grinned. "You know more slang than you let on, don'cha, Ben?"

"Somewhat more, yes." I wasn't interested in talking to him, not when I could have those marvelous mobile lips on mine, or feel those long arms around me, his fingers cupping my buttocks. He tasted of seafood and sauce and beer and Ray - delicious, such a heady sensation.

He pulled away and rubbed his hand through his hair. "Whoa. Someone's got a tiger in his tank. You want to go back to the room?"

I was torn between the exotic liberating feeling of actually embracing in the open, and by the pleasures that might await me in the hotel. Finally I decided to go with his mood, and nodded. "Tomorrow, we can swim in the dark?"

"Sure Ben - it's your holiday too, remember?"

We held hands awkwardly, each finding the clasp of another male hand odd, until the street lighting made doing so indiscreet. I felt my stomach tightening up as we rode the elevator to our room - tonight we would make love, and I was nervous. It had been so long, I had been a mere stripling the last time I had lain with another man, and Ray had been married - what if he found me inept?  If he was nervous, he wasn't showing it. Once inside the room he puttered about, getting undressed down to his underwear, cleaning his teeth - seeming unconcerned about us sharing a bed again, or perhaps more. I could not match his sanguine air and he finally  noticed.

"What's wrong, Ben?"

"Nothing," I lied.

He shrugged and got into his chosen bed and put the television on, seemingly fascinated by a local news report. Now I really was confused. There were two beds - and he hadn't invited me to join him.  I stripped also and took refuge in the bathroom, wondering whether to shower again since I was sweaty from wearing my suit. I decided to take a quick cold one. Ray looked at me oddly when I emerged. "Fraser - I know you're completely anal about cleanliness and shit, but two showers in four hours is a lot even for you, isn't it? When are you coming to bed?" He patted the bed next to himself and I climbed under the covers gratefully. We sat watching the television for an hour or so, my arm draped around him in a way that would have gone unremarked in the street. He patted my leg from time to time, and seemed totally at ease. At last he yawned and when I confirmed that I too had not further interest in watching, he switched it off.

We slipped down flat and he curled up in my arms as he had the night before. The message seemed to be that he liked to cuddle, but nothing more.  I kissed him gently, almost avuncularly, on the forehead, and I would have been content to go to sleep, happy just to have him with me. But then his lips were at my throat, carefully sucking at the hollow there, and his hands were on my hips, then under the waistband of my boxers as I held my breath, unwilling to appear too eager. One hand brushed against my semi-erect penis and I let my pent up breath out in a rush. "Like that?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," I breathed out. I moved my free arm, the one not supporting his head and put my hand over his waist and felt his buttock. I'd already noticed that for such a thin man, he had a surprisingly well-rounded backside, and I loved the curve and feel of it. Not as much, however, as what he was doing now, as he wrapped long fingers around my erection and gave a gentle squeeze. I bucked into his hand then forced myself to still.

"It's okay, Ben - let go." I went to put my hand in his shorts but he pushed it away. "Just let me take care of you, okay?" Well, whatever he wanted was fine - what he was doing was more sensory stimulation than I had had in years, and I was quickly lost in it. It seemed no time at all before I climaxed, then he was wiping his hand on my T-shirt and grinning at me. "Been a while, huh?"

"You have no idea, Ray. But what about you?" I reached down but he wasn't even half-hard.

"It's ok - I'm tired and a bit stressed. Not as young as I used to be, either." I frowned at that but I didn't want to push the issue. He kissed me and nestled against me, seeming to fall asleep almost at once. Perhaps his claim of fatigue was just the simple truth, I thought.

I slept heavily and when I woke, he was gone from the bed. The clock confirmed it was only six - much earlier than he usually rose on a day off, but late for me. I looked around and saw him through the glass doors, sitting on the balcony and drinking coffee. I got up, used the bathroom and put on the hotel bathrobe before joining him. I bent and kissed him. He smiled. "You sleep ok?"

"Yes. You?"

He made a so-so gesture with his hands. "Well enough. You're gonna love it down here, Fraser - look at all this." He was reading the complimentary local guide to the tourist attractions in the area. He was particularly taken by the idea of going on a sailing boat excursion, while I was keen to see the Bon Secour National Wildlife Reserve. The ocean stretched out before us in sparkling blue splendor, and the sand was literally white as the snows of my home. "Look," he said, pointing, and there were dolphins, playing in the sea a few hundred yards from the shore.

"I had no idea it could be so beautiful by the ocean," I said in wonder, still not used to the sight.

"Dyou want a swim before breakfast?" he asked, and grinned at my eager look.

The beach was empty - most people were still rising or getting a meal, and we had the long wide bay entirely to ourselves. The water was shallow which suited Ray more than me, but I was more than happy to watch him enjoy the clear water, just a little cool at this time of the morning, but still pleasant. I regretted that Diefenbaker wasn't here to enjoy this, and resolved to bring him if and when we ever returned.

I walked out a way to find deeper water which at least came up to my waist, and swam a little, keeping an eye on Ray in the shallows. Eventually he grew bored with splashing and waded out to join me. I swam to him and couldn't resist tickling him which led to him retaliating. It felt like being reborn - all this space, the man I loved, not a care in the world. "You sure looked pleased with yourself, Fraser," he teased.

"And why not? Thank you for this, Ray - it's wonderful."

"You're welcome," he said but his smile grew a little less bright. I remembered why we'd come here in the first place and cursed my _faux pas._ But his mood lifted and he asked me to show him how to swim. I began with the dog paddle he had almost mastered when we were on the _Henry Allen_ case. I was puzzled and somewhat amused that someone so quick and light on their feet on land was so awkward in the water, and I think he realized that he would never be Mark Spitz. However, we amused ourselves for over an hour this way until even his stomach complained for food. We showered off and went in search of sustenance in the hotel cafe.

He was full of energy and eager to be up and doing. I let him plan our day. Shopping for clothes, to be dispensed with as quickly as possible. A walk around the town. Lunch and then the sailboat excursion to see dolphins - Ray had never seen them in the wild before. The only flaw in this admirable plan was that it was all in public, but then we had the evenings to spend together.

That day, and the ones that followed sped past much too fast. Our routine was quickly established. A swim before breakfast, and for a couple of hours after. A walk into the town to find lunch, and a drive to an attraction further afield. I managed to persuade him to come snorkeling on one morning which he enjoyed despite his initial hesitancy. Once he realized all he had to do was float face down and kick a little, he was fine, and in fact I gave up before he did. We both developed respectable tans even with the precautions against burning we took, and he was able to tease me about the whiteness of my buttocks against the brown skin above. He freckled more than tanned and all in all looked healthier, happy and more like the Ray I knew than at any time since we had returned from Canada.

At night, he was still more inclined to let me hold him than to stimulate him sexually but on Monday night, while he was still enthusing about his diving on the wreck and urging me to go again before we left, I decided to take advantage of his hyperactive mood. This time, I didn't wait for him to get under the covers but snared him as he emerged from the bathroom. I pulled him into a tight embrace and kissed him, making it clear how much I wanted him. My aggression amused him and he kissed me back with equal ardor. I slipped my hands under the waistband of his shorts and slid the pants down, half-expecting him to complain. Instead, he stepped out of them, and kicked them aside, letting me strip him of his T-shirt as well. He was panting now, and his eyes were dark, the irises wide with desire. I knelt. "May I, Ray?"

His hands kneaded my head. "Yeah - do it, Fraser." I kissed his stomach down to his pubic hair and with one hand, I gently caressed his testicles. He became erect very quickly and I gave him a couple of careful strokes before taking him into my mouth. He gasped and thrust in reflex, and I had to pull back before I choked. "Sssorry, Ben," he said jerkily. I sucked again, laving him with my tongue and using my hand to stop him going too deep. He had a beautiful penis, flawless and long, and tasting as I imagined him, a little bitter, salty - rich. I wanted this to last, so I slowed my movements and caressed his backside, stroking down the back of his legs and up on the soft skin of his inner thigh. His hands clutched at my hair, tugging carelessly, showing that I was driving him out of his mind - as I wanted to do. He began to thrust shallowly again, a sign he was close and I relented, bringing him off with long smooth sucks and touching his perineum as he came. He was so hot, and the essence something I couldn't get enough of. I hadn't realized I was becoming too enthusiastic until he suddenly pulled away. "Shit, Fraser, I got uses for that, you know."

I was suddenly embarrassed at my clumsiness and stood up. "I'm sorry, Ray, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't - that was terrific. You're too much," he said, kissing me.

"Really?"

"Fishing for compliments is rude, Ben," he said in mock rebuke.

"I'm sorry - it's been a long time, and I wasn't sure I could do it correctly."

He grinned at me. "You want to practice? I'm your man."

He made me strip and once we were in bed he used his clever hands to relieve my own tension. That night we slept naked together for the first time, and it felt completely right and natural. We would do this for the rest of our lives, I realized, and I smiled in the dark, into the spiky soft hair of the man I loved.

We filled every second with pleasure, and before we knew it, it was Thursday night. We had a five o'clock start in the morning, so we had decided on an early meal in the hotel. Ray was once again as subdued as he had been at the start of the trip but when I asked him if anything was wrong, he shook himself and said he was sorry it was all over. I told him we could come back one day and he had just shrugged and said "Perhaps". I could see no obstacle to us doing so, now that we had discovered this place, and I put his mood down to depression at returning to work and reality. It had been a golden week, no doubt, and I for one felt the benefit of the fresh air, the swimming and the sun. Chicago would be a shock to our systems, for sure.

We packed and showered, ready for a swift departure in the morning. I found Ray waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom, and he hugged me almost desperately, looking for comfort, and something more. His mood was strange, edgy, almost manic and I had to struggle to get air from under his kisses and his pulling me close. I clasped his buttocks, bringing our groins together, and as my fingers stroked his cleft, he said "Please, Fraser. I want it." I leaned back in his arms and looked at him. He nodded. God. It had been a long time since I done this and I was as nervous as the first time I had made love. He could see my anxiety but he was clumsy with need. I know I spent too little time preparing him - he wouldn't let me take the time - and when I wanted to enter him slowly, he slammed back into me, taking me inside him. I'm sure it must have hurt, but he was relentless, forcing the pace until I came with an inarticulate sound. I pulled out, amazed there was no blood, and took him in my arms. To my horror I found he was weeping silently, his face wet. "Oh my god, Ray, I'm sorry, I hurt you," I babbled.

"No," he choked out, "No. M'okay. Hold me, Ben. Just hold me." So I did as he cried himself to sleep, with me stroking his hair and his face, helpless in the face of this emotional storm. That night he slept more soundly than another night we'd been at the hotel, so I guessed his upset was just the remnants of grief over Stella, and perhaps tension at the coming trip.

 

* * *

He didn't mention his breakdown at all the next day.  We drove non-stop, switching the driving when we stopped for petrol or food. The scenery passed in a blur but I was still fascinated by the changing landscape, the towns we passed through. Ray was quiet to begin with but became more talkative as the day wore on and we ate up the miles. He was clearly getting back into work mode and we discussed the recent case and others we had worked on without the other. It was a pleasant, but tiring day. He enjoyed being behind the wheel, I thought.

We pulled up in front of my building at eleven, totally exhausted.  I touched his hand. "I'll see you?"

"Yeah - but not this weekend, remember. You better go." I climbed out. He waved as he drove off.

Given how late we got back, it was the next morning before I walked to Mrs. Gamez's building a block west of mine. As always, she told me how much she enjoyed having Diefenbaker, and as always there was no reluctance on her part to let him go. Dief seemed moderately pleased to see me - I suspected he had been given rather more food bribes than was good for him, but I was in such a relaxed mood I hardly cared. I didn't expect to see Ray before the following week - he was rostered to work that weekend - but I was in no hurry. We would see each other, talk about our future together. That we now had one, I was in no doubt.

It wasn't until the following Wednesday that my Consulate duties allowed me to get down to the 27th precinct. Ray hadn't called me at work, but that was hardly unusual, and I fully expected to see him at the station. He wasn't at his desk, and once again Lieutenant Welsh waylaid me. This time he looked less than pleased with me and didn't invite me to sit. I stood at attention.

"Did you enjoy your vacation, Corporal?"

"Yes, sir. It was most relaxing."

"Hmmm. And you had a chance to talk to Kowalski, I take it."

"Yes, of course. I believed I got to the bottom of what was bothering him." In fact I was feeling somewhat smug about the fact that Welsh would have seen a dramatic improvement in his detective.

"So in your opinion, Ray is now going to be happier, is that right?"

"Yes, sir - so I would believe."

"So, Fraser, how do you explain the fact that he waltzed in here on Monday morning and requested an immediate transfer to the 18th precinct?"

I looked at him, robbed of speech by shock. He just looked at me, unprepared to make things easy for me. "Transfer?" I choked out eventually.

"Yeah. Officially, he said it was because he was hoping for promotion to lieutenant. Unofficially he said it was because he didn't want to work with you any more. Said he had 'issues'. Now what I don't understand is how I can send you off with clear instructions to find out what is bothering him, and for him to come back so mad at you that he wants to leave. Threatened to resign if I wouldn't let him go."

"And will you?" My voice sounded strange to my ears, but then I did feel as if the bottom had just dropped out of my world.

"I don't have a lot of choice - he's right, he'll get more opportunities at the 18th, and if he's not happy working with you, I can't make him, can I?"

"But he can't - he told me..."

Welsh waited, but I couldn't explain myself any better without letting the secret out of the bag. He lost patience. "Well, whatever you did, it's too late. Kowalski's in court today, and nobody needs you at the moment. I suggest you return to the Consulate. I'll let you know who's taking over from him."

"When ...when will he go?"

"End of the week - they're screaming for people over there, and they know Kowalski's coming. He'll clear his desk and go Friday. Now if you don't mind, I've got work to do, Corporal."

I closed his door, and I suppose I walked back to the Consulate, because I found myself climbing the steps sometime later, but I had absolutely no recollection of doing so. I couldn't even begin to understand what was going on. My superior found me staring into space an hour or so later and when he failed to get a coherent explanation  for my state, he sent me home telling me to 'sort myself out' with the clear implication that failure to do so might become a disciplinary matter.  I did go back and change out of my uniform but then spent the rest of the day walking aimlessly, Dief patiently accompanying me, doubtless helping me avoid being accosted in my confused state. I really don't have a memory of that day. All I really knew was that I desperately needed to see Ray and get him to make things clear - there had to be a logical explanation for this, there had to be.

I ended up at his building and gave up any pretense that I was doing anything other than waiting for him to appear. I waited for an hour and a half, Dief beginning to grumble for his supper but he would have to go without until I spoke to Ray. Ray saw me in the car park and scowled at me as he got out of his car. "I'm not doing this here, Fraser."

He made to walk past me, but I grabbed his arm. "It's either  here or at the station, Ray."

"No, it's neither. It's over, Fraser."

"Just like that? You make a decision that we're through working together?"

"We're through, period."

No - he couldn't mean that. "But when we parted ... you lied to me."

He looked around to see if we were attracting attention. "Look Fraser - it has to be this way. I told you that from the start but you wouldn't give it up. The only thing I could do was to go along with it and put an end to it here. And it is over, do you hear me? I don't want to see you again, work with you again, talk about this again. I told you in Tampa - everything's changed. I told you why too. Now let go my arm or I'll arrest you for assaulting a police officer."

I dropped my hand and looked at the stranger I thought I knew. "You were playing a game with me - you knew you were going to do this and you still slept with me."

"It was the only thing I could do.  Like I told you, you never give up - you never listen to what I'm telling you." He sounded almost desperate, but I was too angry to care.

"I believed you when you said you loved me."

His face hardened. "You believe what you like. Just don't be doing it around me. Go and get a new life, Fraser. This one's over."

"You betrayed me. You lied to me," I almost whispered, not wanting to believe this nightmare was happening.

"Yeah, I did. Get over it," he said in a stony voice, and then walked off. Dief looked at me puzzled, unable to understand why his favorite human hadn't even looked at him. I had no answer for him. I stared at Ray's retreating back - the slam of the building door was like a gunshot, shocking me back into what now passed for reality.  Ray had lied to me. He'd never lied before, never let me down in the smallest way - now he had betrayed me in the most fundamental way possible. Why? Was he truly trying to claim he never loved me? But he made that admission of his own free will. I wanted to go after him, but knew there was no point. If he chose, the law would protect him against me stalking him if he decided to describe my actions thus. All I could do was go home cloaked in the little that was left of my pride and dignity and as he advised me to do, just get over it.

Oh, easy to say. So easy - so hard to do. Even in his absence everything at the 27th reminded me of him even if I needed it - which I didn't. Welsh's daily frowns told me how much he had lost because of me. Every second file bore Ray's strong slanted handwriting - his name came up in conversation over and over. I had no chance of forgetting him, let alone of 'getting over him'. The nights which I had briefly hoped would be filled with love and companionship stretched long and sleeplessly. The days I had anticipated we would spend together walking, talking, arguing - were meaningless. Weeks passed and I could not have said under oath what had occurred without resorting to notes. The weekends I walked and walked for dozens of miles, exhausting even Dief. Time after time, my unruly feet brought me to Ray's building where I would stare at the flickering blue light which told me he was home, watching television. All I would have to do was climb the stairs and he would be there. I could talk to him. Except I couldn't face his anger - that hard coldness he'd displayed the last time I saw him. I was a coward. And I was beaten.

Looking back over our week in the sun, I could see the signs of what he meant to do. He'd let me take the lead in sex, in anything we did that strayed from the boundaries of our normal partnership. He didn't give me himself - he only gave me what he would be happy to share with a stranger. And I, fool and desperate that I was, took those scraps and parlayed them up into a future - a phantasm. I forgot who I was dealing with. A cop who had spent years undercover. A man who had to hide his feelings about his ex-wife on a daily basis. Someone who claimed to have been in love with me - and I never knew it. Wished I had never known it.  Sometimes I wished I believed he hated me - knowing that explained what he had done might have made losing him easier. I was kidding myself of course. Nothing made it easier.

 

* * *

And so life went on in this empty unsatisfactory fashion, my work suffering, my heart broken and with there seeming to be no way to mend it.  My tan faded along with my hopes and the golden days we spent together were just a dream to torment me at night.  The T-shirts we worn, still faintly smelling of sunscreen, the swimsuit and the sunglasses Ray had bought for me, I put away carefully in a bottom drawer - too much my grandmother's grandson to throw them away, too much my own foolish self to contemplate ever using them again.  I thought I had suffered after Victoria - I hadn't even understood the meaning of the word.  Even my superior commented after a while on my poor appearance but could find nothing specific to reprimand me for. He wasn't going to offer a friendly shoulder to cry on, even if I could even contemplate using one. Mounties do not have emotional problems, _ipso facto_ I had no problem for him to deal with.

Two months after Stella's funeral, Ray Vecchio came to my apartment one Friday night. He knocked even though I still never locked my door, and was hesitant about accepting my invitation to come in. "Hey, Benny - hope it's ok to call like this. You said..."

"Of course. Come and sit. Would you like some tea?"

"No thanks, Fraser - I ate already." He sat on my old sofa. "This is an improvement."

"Yes - it's comfortable enough and Dief likes to sleep on it."

I waited for him to tell me why he was here - if he just wanted to see me, he would have invited me to his mother's house for a meal. I didn't have to wait long.

"Benny, I came to apologize for what I did in Florida. I was out of line."

"It's already forgiven and forgotten, Ray. It was a difficult time for everyone."

"Yeah it was. And look, what I said about Kowalski - I shouldn't have said that either."

"I'm sure he knows that."

Ray looked at me more closely. "Fraser - are you all right? You look terrible and you're ... are you still mad at me?"

I laughed, a horrible sound. "At you? No. I'm fine."

"You sure? Cos you look like I feel - so who died and left you?"  I couldn't answer that but Ray knew me too well not to guess a little. "It's Kowalski, isn't it? You two have a fight?"

"Not exactly, Ray, but you'll be pleased to know we no longer work together." I spoke stiffly and he sat back a little at the barb.

"Why? What happened?"

"He transferred to the 18th precinct."

"But you two, you still hang out together, right?"

I shook my head. "It appears our friendship has served its purpose and run its course."

Ray's eyes narrowed. "Benny - that's bullshit. God knows I don't like the guy, but you and him, you were pals, everyone said. You don't hang around someone like you two did just because of work."

"He was preserving your cover, Ray. This year we haven't seen much of each other at all."

"Then why do you look like shit, Fraser? What's happened?"

I didn't want to talk about it. "Nothing, Ray - I want to know how you are? Have you decided what you plan to do?"

He let me change the subject. "Just go on, I suppose. The alley's turning a good profit, I need something to do. I'll go crazy if I don't stay busy."

"I think that's a wise plan."

"Besides, if I come back, there's Ma and Stella's parents - too many reminders. The only way I can cope with visiting is with the help of Mr. Daniel's and that's a little too much like my old man. I just miss her so damn much, Benny." His voice went husky, then he looked embarrassed at the display of emotion.  He stood up. "I better go - Ma's not well."

We discussed his mother's failing health as he walked to the door. Then he turned to me. "Fraser - I don't know what's happened, and I guess you don't want to tell me right now. But you know you can talk to me, don't you? Anytime - just call."

"I appreciate that, Ray. But I'm fine."

He looked as if he might hug me but my body language must have deterred him because he simply put his hand out. "Like I said, anytime. And I promise not to be an asshole this time."

"OK." I was being a poor friend to him in offering so little comfort, but I was anxious to be alone again and didn't walk him out. Was it so obvious to people? My lack of self-discipline annoyed me. I survived Victoria. I survived years of ostracism by the RCMP, and even a time by the Chicago PD. I could survive the loss of Ray's Kowalski's friendship. Liar, I told myself.

Ray's visit left me restless and I spent a sleepless night - again. I had enough to occupy the next day - I had thrown myself into voluntary work with a vengeance and Saturdays were usually devoted to repairing housing, helping the elderly with gardens and other physical labor. But by nightfall, I was not tired enough in mind or body to sleep and I found myself yet again walking aimlessly, inexorably towards Ray's building. Even Dief had given up in disgust and refused to come with me. This had to stop. I remembered Ray's words - that he managed his visits to Chicago with the help of alcohol. I didn't drink - never felt the desire to, nor cared for the taste overly - but at the same time I was beginning to become desperate. My work was suffering, my life was passing in a haze of misery and here I was mooning under Ray's window like a love-sick teenager. Perhaps alcohol applied medicinally might be the thing I needed to help me get over this intractable depression I had fallen into. A temporary dose of a depressive to cure the longer standing pain. It made as much sense as anything else in my life.

There was a bar not far from where I was standing - I had passed it hundreds of times. It looked reputable enough and quiet, just what I needed. Indeed, despite the fact it was Saturday, it was almost deserted. I felt slightly lost - how did one proceed to drink to forget? I sat at the bar.

"What would you like?" the bartender asked.

"I really have no idea. What would you recommend?"

He looked at me as if I were slightly mad. "You don't drink?"

"Not as a rule but I'm willing to experiment. What works the fastest?"

"Whisky," he said without hesitation. "Ever had it before?"

"Once or twice. I've been told I ought to like it, because I'm of Scots descent."

"Is that right? Well, I'm Lithuanian but I know the good stuff. Here, try this." He poured a shot of amber fluid for me. "Sip, don't throw it back."

The stuff burned but almost immediately I felt the warmth in my stomach. He grinned. "Good? You like that?"

"Yes, that's acceptable." To tell the truth, it could have been rubbing alcohol for all I cared.

"So what's her name?"

"Who?"

"The one who's convinced you to try this," he waved at the glass. "Must be a woman - always is. So what's her name?"

"Ray," I said, knowing he would spell it 'Rae' and not caring to lie nor to explain my gender preferences.

"She dumped you?"

"Yes. You see it a lot, I suppose."

"Every few days someone comes in and does what you're doing. Not usually Canadian though - we don't get many of them around here. You want another one?"

"Please. Corporal Benton Fraser, RCMP." I held out my hand.

"Josef," he said simply. "So, you been down here long?"

"Nearly six years." Saying it like that, it sounded almost like a sentence.

"So, your girl - another Canadian?"

"No. American."

He nodded sympathetically. "You should get a Canadian girlfriend - give yourself a reason to go home."

True enough. I'd had exiled myself voluntarily for Ray, and now look where I was. The alcohol was indeed helping, I noticed - talking didn't hurt. Josef poured me a fourth drink, and I wondered vaguely where the third one had gone.

We chatted amiably for several hours, or so it felt - I wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed, and the number of drinks I had was an unreliable indicator. It wasn't until I wished to attend to a call of nature that I realized that perhaps I had drunk more than was strictly wise, although I had anticipated some lack of sobriety. I used the men's room and contemplated leaving. The bar was a warm, friendly haven - out on the street, I would immediately see Ray's building. My watch told me he was likely to be still up, and I knew if I saw that blue flicker I would not be able to resist trying to see him. No, better to stay and talk to my new friend and enjoy the temporary release from the ache in my heart the Scotch had wrought. Josef had other ideas. He shook his head when I ordered another drink.

"Sorry Benton, I'm cutting you off. You've had enough and if I give you any more I'm risking my license."

"I quite understand. Perfectly understood. So I'll just be going now." I stood up and stumbled a little, but was quite proud of maintaining what I felt was an ordinary stance despite the tilting floor which I hadn't noticed on my entry. Safety hazard. Someone should really do something about that.

I put my Stetson on my head and walked out. "Take care, Benton," Josef said. I waved my hand without turning around - I didn't want to risk that.

Out on the street, the chill air hit me.  I looked up involuntarily - the blue flicker was still there.  I was trapped. I couldn't go forward and I couldn't go back, so I stood. "Fuck", I said aloud then put my hand over my mouth. Where on earth had that come from? I was aware I was swaying and thought on the whole it was probably safer if I sat down on solid ground. That was better. The blue light playing on Ray's ceiling held me mesmerized. I don't know how long I sat there. I heard someone call. "Constable Fraser? Is that you?"

I twisted to look at the source of the sound and got caught off balance, falling sideways to the sidewalk. I thought I was better off like that - there wasn't so much movement. I felt a hand pluck at my arm. "Constable? What are you doing? You can't lie down here."

"Who are you?" Hmmm. That sounded funny. I tried again. No better.

"Officer Tracey, Constable - I know you from Ray Kowalski. Come on, you gotta get up - you'll freeze to death."

He hauled me up which made everything swirl. "Fuck," I said again and this time I knew exactly where that had come from.

A earnest young man's face peered into mine. "Are you drunk? Hell, Ray told me you never drink. What are you doing here?" He looked around as I hung bonelessly off his arm, wishing he would let me sit again. "You visiting Ray?"

"No." I was sure of that.

"He lives just there. I'm gonna take you up there - you're in no state to get home on your own. He can give you a lift. If I leave you here someone will arrest you for drunk and disorderly."

" 'm not disorderly."

He laughed. "Not yet, anyhow, but lying on the pavement is gonna get you in trouble for sure. Come on."

I didn't want to go with him, not at all, but I had no power in my legs or arms to pull away. I was feeling ill, to be perfectly honest. "Constable, you okay? You're white as a ghost."  That did it - I bent over and emptied my stomach contents. "Oh shit, man - did you have to, all over my shoes? You got Kowalski's number on you? Where's your wallet?" He pulled it from my back pocket while I concentrated on not throwing up again. "Got it." He dialed on his mobile phone. "Ray? It's Peter Tracey. Look, I'm outside your building - you're not gonna believe this but I got your Mountie friend here drunk as a skunk. Can you come give me a hand? OK, see you."

Tracey held me up. "Now don't go puking again, man, cos that's not cool. Jeez, what the hell happened to you?"

Too complicated, I thought. Then there was another strong pair of hands on my arms and a voice I recognized. "I got him, Peter - can you help me get him up?"

"Ain't ya gonna take him home?"

"Like this? He'll choke on his own vomit. Gotta sober him up first." Ray hadn't said a word to me - but just to hear his voice sent a shiver through me. The two of them manhandled me up the two flights to Ray's apartment and Tracey held me up while Ray opened his door.

"Where do you want him?"

"Bathroom."

I didn't understand that, nor why Ray asked his friend to help strip me of my shirt, jeans and shoes. They put me in his bathtub and I heard Ray tell Tracey he would handle it from here. He came back in. "What the fuck are you up to, Fraser? Are you stalking me?"

"No, Ray," I said sincerely, then another wave of nausea hit me.

"Oh, wonderful," he said disgustedly as he shoved the waste basket in front of me just in time. I heaved up what was left in my stomach until there was literally nothing coming up. "You done?"

I nodded. I felt appalling. The jet of cold water that hit the back of my head was like a blow. "What the _hell_ are you doing, Ray?" I shouted.

"Sobering you up, Mountie. Sit there and take your medicine." He kept the stream on me for several seconds then turned off the water. It certainly woke me up but now I was shivering. I felt Ray's hand on my forehead, and then the water came back, warm now. Much more pleasant, even if I was sitting in sodden underwear. But then Ray put the plug in the bath and ran hot water into it, then stripped the wet undershirt off me, leaving me only in the boxers. I was warming up well, and certainly felt better for it. "Stay there and stay awake, you hear?" He turned the water off. "I'm gonna make some coffee. You. Stay. There."

I had no inclination to move. In fact the warmth of the water was soporific and I gradually slid down only to have Ray yank me up by my hair. "Christ on a fucking crutch, Fraser! Are you trying to drown yourself? Get up, will ya?" He helped me stand and wrapped a warm dry towel around me, pulling the sopping boxers off me. He toweled me dry roughly but efficiently. "Here. Put this on. "

He held his own bathrobe out.  I put it on and for the first time, looked directly at him. "I'm sorry ..."

He grabbed the lapels of the robe. "I do not want to fucking hear it. I do not want you hanging the fuck around my building. Do you hear me, Mountie? I oughta run you in."

I shook my head which made me feel ill again. "I need to sit."

He pulled me into his living room, his every action screaming anger at my violation of his ban and his privacy. "Here. Don't move." He pushed me down onto his sofa. I collapsed onto it and sat with my head tilted on the back of it, the only position which didn't reawaken my nausea. He put something hot in my hands. "Drink."

It was fiercely strong coffee, made drinkable only by copious amounts of sugar. I thought it would make me sick again but in fact it helped.  Ray glared at me as I drank. I could see in his expression no trace of the friendship or affection that I once took for granted. Not that I blamed him - I presented a pretty disgusting picture, I knew.  I drank the cup and another, and by the time  I'd done I felt considerably more sober - and chastened. "I should go now."

"Yeah, well, your underwear's soaked so you'll have to sleep on the sofa. How much did you drink?"

"Not sure."

"Were you at Josef's place?" I nodded. "I'm gonna kill him, I really am. How often have you been doing this?"

"Just this once."

"You were lucky it was Peter Tracey who found you and not some hard-nosed Canuck hating flatfoot, you fucking moron. Where's Dief?"

"Home."

"Is he OK until morning?"

"I think so."

He got up and went into the hall, returned with blankets and a pillow.  "I'm going to bed. You need aspirin, it's in the bathroom." And with that he left me. I've had kinder words from people trying to kill me.

The hangover was bad, naturally. It didn't hurt as much as Ray's note I found in an apartment he'd left while I slept in my drunken state. He told me where my underwear was, and to let his landlady know when I left so she could lock up. Not a single word of friendship.

I kept that note for many years. It reminded me that I could sink no lower than I had that night. I put my request for transfer in and was on Baffin Island  within two months. I'd had the thing I wanted, and it nearly destroyed me. It was time to live without wanting. It was easier that way.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised (or reread by me) since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


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